


Cooking Up Demons

by FaeriesPlayGamesAndWriteThings



Category: Samurai Love Ballad Party - Fandom
Genre: Accidental Demon Summoning, Blood, Drabble, F/M, demon king nobunaga, small injury, terrible cooking and its consequences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 20:34:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19217047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaeriesPlayGamesAndWriteThings/pseuds/FaeriesPlayGamesAndWriteThings
Summary: I blame @yoolee entirely for this.Prompt: Nobunaga is an ACTUAL Demon King and all you did was spill some spices and salt while reaching for the first aid kit, you weren’t actually trying to summon him, you swear.





	Cooking Up Demons

**Author's Note:**

> Another prompt from the incredible and lovely @yoolee over on tumblr, check her out.
> 
> Thank you for reading, hope you enjoy!

Prompt: Nobunaga is an ACTUAL Demon King and all you did was spill some spices and salt while reaching for the first aid kit, you weren’t actually trying to summon him, you swear.

“Let’s see, the recipe calls for cumin… cumin… do I have cumin? Would coriander work? I mean, they have to be close, right? They both start with C… good enough for me!”

A few shakes of the coriander resulted in the bandage slipping from her palm and exposing the still seeping wound she’d given herself earlier while slicing onions. It had clearly not been her fault. Onions made her cry. Also she was pretty sure knives weren’t supposed to be quite THIS sharp. Not her fault, not this time.

With the exaggerated sigh of someone seriously put upon, she reached behind the disarray she’d made of the spices on the kitchen counter to get a new bandage from the first aid kit. Her elbow knocked into the little glass bottles, on which somebody, surely not her, had failed to tighten the lids. Cinnamon, sage, and salt spilled all over. Scrambling to right the overturned spices, she ignored her wounded hand and failed to notice the precisely 3 drops of blood that fell directly onto the mess.

A flash of red tinted light and suddenly her hands weren’t groping for spice bottles anymore. They were groping the lap of one very surprised, very handsome man. Freezing the moment her clumsy hands caught up with her brain, she slowly looked up to meet his gaze. He wore an arrogant and amused smirk. 

“So, you have summoned me for a night of pleasure, have you? You do know who I am, don’t you? I am not some lowly demon you can seek to do your bidding. If I choose to bed you, you will surely do mine! I am Nobunaga, Demon King of Hell, and no mere mortal woman will command me.” He folded his arms across an impressive bared chest, smug in his certainty that she would fall easily to his charms.

“Bloody hell! Not again. I swore I’d be more careful the last time. I can’t BELIEVE I keep doing this. And this one claims to be King Demon, ha, as if! You!” She poked Nobunaga in the chest and gestured to her mess of a kitchen. “You, are in my way. I was just trying to make some chili. I got this great recipe off the internet, it’s supposed to be super easy, so I thought, no problem, right?” She gave an awkward laugh. “So if you could please just go back to whatever hellish tortures you were involved with before, that would be swell, mmkay?”

Her previously groping hands settled themselves on her hips and she gave him her best and most stern look, indicating her level of seriousness on this matter. No silly demon was going to wreck her attempts at cooking this time. Oh no, she was so close to actually making something edible, she could smell it. Actually, now that she thought about it, that smell was not so good. Well, really, it was quite horrible. 

“Oh hairy horny hobbits, you are joking, right? Is that you that stinks so badly or did you ruin my chili?!” She scrambled closer to look into the pot sitting right beside the demon who wore a mask of utter bafflement. She tried to gauge the efforts of her cooking with a sniff, and recoiled in horror.

“Ugh! This was supposed to be an easy recipe! I can’t believe another accidental demon summoning has ruined my cooking AGAIN! No wonder they call you demons! You bloody bastards are always ruining perfectly good attempts at chili! And spaghetti! And chocolate chip cookies! And don’t even get me started on the incident with the demon dog and my waffles. Just what kind of hell are you running, supposed King of Demons?!” Her fingers made air quotes around that last bit as she sputtered and accused.

Flabbergasted, Nobunaga stared at this clearly insane and dimwitted creature before him as she panted from her long-winded rant. Just how bad at cooking could a person be? Could she seriously have summoned so many minions of hell merely by attempting to bake cookies and make waffles? Surely not. Then he realized something.

“Wait, wait, wait, you mean to tell me, that you summoned ME, Nobunaga, Demon King of Hell, divine ruler of the damned, accidentally? No lengthy incantations? No fancy ingredients? No sacrifices? Not even a little one?” He held his fingers close together with a hopeful look.

“I cut myself earlier, I was bleeding. Does that count? I clearly sacrificed my chili though.” She showed him her poorly wrapped hand and grumbled.

Nobunaga struggled with this information for a short time, looking torn between horror and laughter. Clearly there was something unusual about this mortal if she could call forth demons with some spilled spices and a few drops of her own blood. She might be entertaining after all. Perhaps he could claim her for himself… Yes, that was an interesting thought…

“Ahem, excuse me, mister puffed up devil dude, if you could just go on home now, I’d really like to clean this mess up and crawl into a hot bath. What a day, I tell you.” Her words interrupted his thoughts. 

He found himself more amused than offended now. He raised his hand slowly and dramatically, holding her gaze with his arrogance, and snapped his fingers. Her kitchen was suddenly clean and spotless, the offensive batch of chili gone as though it had never been.

“Now, my little mortal, you were saying something about a hot bath?”


End file.
